


and in that manner; it came as a thief

by asphodelgrimoire



Series: sinners in the hands of an angry god [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Christianity, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Prayer, Trans Aaron Burr, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphodelgrimoire/pseuds/asphodelgrimoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This current Sunday, Jon is leading. Some weeks, he’ll laugh his way through it. Aaron doesn’t doubt his sincerity and devotion to religion; Jon just doesn’t believe that it has to be solemn every time. In fact, Aaron thinks that the jokes make it more sincere. At the Edwards household, saying grace was hard to enjoy, and now he can’t help but crack a smile every time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and in that manner; it came as a thief

**Author's Note:**

> wow holy shit ok
> 
> warnings in here i guess
> 
> so the character death isn't major, per se, but it is described and is also the main focus of this story.
> 
> also lots of religiousness, given that jonathan bellamy's dad was a preacher, and praying.
> 
> sorry everybody
> 
> title is from jonathan edwards' sermon, aka the title of this series

Sunday comes around again, and by now, Aaron has gotten used to it. He used to hate saying grace, having to sit up straight in his chair and recite it monotonously or risk getting punished later. With the Bellamys, it’s a little different. Mrs. Bellamy tells him that she never says grace, and that if he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to. So the first few times, he only watches as one of the siblings leads the prayer. He watches Rebecca solemnly put her hands together in prayer and rest her head on them. “Lord,” she says, and Mr. Bellamy makes a face that suggests he knows exactly what she’s doing. Jon grins. “I would like to personally thank you for creating garlic bread.”

Sam and Elizabeth snort. “Amen,” David mutters.

“That is not a part of grace,” Mr. Bellamy says, one eyebrow raised.

“It should be!” she protests, but then sighs. “Okay, okay. Bless us O Lord and these Your gifts, which we are about to receive from Your bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoes the rest of the table.

The next time, William is allowed to lead. He blinks, takes off his cowboy hat and reads the prayer off a piece of paper taped to the table with as much sincerity and steadiness as a five year old could possibly muster. Jon, Lucy, and Rebecca are hooting and clapping while William triumphantly stuffs a spoonful of Brussels sprouts into his mouth. Jon turns to Aaron and kisses his cheek.

After the early dinner, Aaron overhears a conversation between Elizabeth and William while washing his plate.

“Can I have the rainbow candy now?” he asks.

She scoffs and throws him a pack of AirHeads. “There you go,” Elizabeth sees Aaron’s bemused expression once her brother runs off, probably to ambush one of the others with his jump rope lasso, and takes the time to explain. She takes a book entitled _Little Pea_ off the dining table. “He loves this book. It’s pretty trippy. The peas have to eat candy, and veggies are like dessert to them. Sort of cannibalistic, but whatever. There’s a schedule for which kind of candy on which day and everything. So, he eats his vegetables, and he gets a piece of candy. Sunday is rainbow.”

“Oh,” Aaron says simply, and nods as she leaves. He has no idea what he did to earn little things about the family like that, but he’s too timid to ask.

The next week, he washes his dish again, a porcelain plate with a dove in the center, and Mr. Bellamy reaches around him to put a knife in the drain board.

“You know,” he starts, looking at the plate. “Frances- Jon’s mother- hated birds. Absolutely despised them. I got the dove plate set, only because it was nice quality, and she looked at me, one hand on her hip, and said ‘ _I’m not eating off of those._ ’ I put them in the back of her china cabinet, so they weren’t an eyesore for her, and it was fine. We had a whole cabinet full of dishes. I didn’t use them until she-“ He pauses. “She… didn’t like birds,” And then he smiles tightly at Aaron and retreats to the living room.

Aaron doesn’t ask about it.

This current Sunday, Jon is leading. Some weeks, he’ll laugh his way through it. Aaron doesn’t doubt his sincerity and devotion to religion; Jon just doesn’t believe that it has to be solemn every time. In fact, Aaron thinks that the jokes make it more sincere. At the Edwards household, saying grace was hard to enjoy, and now he can’t help but crack a smile every time.

This time, he’s serious for the most part. Jon rests his head on his hands in prayer. Aaron does the same- has been, for the last few weeks- and listens as he starts. “Bless us O Lord,” Jon says, and sits up straight again. Mr Bellamy and the rest of the family give him an anticipatory look, expecting a wise-crack.

He reaches towards Aaron, puts an arm around him and pulls him to his own side. Aaron stays in praying position, but looks up to meet Jon’s gaze. “-And these Your gifts, which we are about to receive from Your bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”

Rebecca smiles proudly as she cuts up William’s sweet potato for him, and Mr. Bellamy seems pleased with the execution (if only for the fact that his son has finally neglected to butcher grace).

The meal goes without a hitch, and Aaron, despite his embarrassment, is mainly pre-occupied with thinking about how good it feels to be held, to be a part of the family, to be loved and love someone back. Jon keeps him close.

When everyone is done with eating, the family scatters to different parts of the house. The oldest siblings- Jon, Lucy, Rebecca, and David- are playing cards at the dining table. Samuel is letting Joseph out of his playpen to give him a separate, smaller meal. William is somewhere, maybe watching a show in the back with Mrs. Bellamy. Elizabeth stays in the kitchen, making some popcorn. She perks some suddenly, and looks to Aaron, who is staring into space.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, there was a letter in the mail for you yesterday. Whoever it’s from- they spelled your name wrong- uh, I’ll get it for you. I didn’t open it,” She steps away from the microwave to fetch the envelope from a basket near the front door. Aaron is already panicking. “Here.”

She’s right. _TO: ARIN,_ the envelope says. It doesn’t have an address on it, but the almost-correct name already rules out Timothy, so he’s able to keep from losing his composure completely. The card game has apparently been paused, and Jon’s looking at him with concerned eyes. He smiles a bit, probably grimaces, more than anything, and rips the envelope open.

There’s a small blue piece of lined paper that has _READ FIRST_ on it, and a white piece of paper that fits the envelope. He reads accordingly, unfolding the blue piece of paper.

_-_

_Arin-_

_I know I was never the best to you, and I hope that where you are now is a place where people care about you. You deserve that. We weren’t close, but I think you should know what happened. You are the only person that I thought to send this to, and I know that he’d agree. I hope ~~you feel~~ your life is better now._

_\- Rhoda_

_-_

Aaron squints at the paper for a moment, confused and a little nauseous.  Jon stands up. “Do you want me to read it with you? Or, to read it alone?” he asks.

“No, I’m okay,” Aaron folds the blue paper back up and takes the real letter out, only having to unfold it one time. There’s a gold stamp on the top left corner, some military insignia. It says DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY at the top, has a street address and a zip code.

_-_

_Dear Mrs. Edwards:_

_Please accept my deepest sympathies on the loss of your brother, Colonel Matthias Ogden, who volunteered and sacrificed his life to serve his country as a Soldier in the U.S. Army. He fought hard and was loved by many in his regiment. A tragedy has taken this young man from his Family, and he will be sorely missed by all who have known him. Words cannot describe how sorry I am for your loss._

_Matthias served in the 1 st New Jersey Regiment with a very high rank for his age, commanding with all the wisdom and gallantry of a seasoned veteran and leading the Jersey Blues with all the loyalty of a friend. He was an essential member of the infantry, and we would not be where we are without his contribution._

_On Saturday, June 18 th, 2016, Matthias was checking around some of the tents at Camp Arnold for an alleged small explosive that a soldier had reported to be nearby. He had turned away from the tent wall to look further from it for the explosive, described as a mine, when multiple bullets struck him in the back and killed him. At the current time, we believe it was a case of negligent discharge. The soldier staying in that particular tent hadn’t replaced the barrel of his gun after shooting multiple rounds, causing it to overheat enough for the ammunition to explode prematurely. A medical helicopter was on the scene within minutes to bring him to the Braddock Army Hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival._

_The investigation of the circumstances surrounding his death is ongoing, but we will contact you if any new information has been found. In the case of negligent discharge, the soldier responsible will be reprimanded, but no legal action can be taken due to the fact that the discharge was unintentional, and that he was not present._

_A memorial service will be held for him on the morning of June 22 th, and he will be honored with a eulogy from former Brigadier General of the 1st New Jersey Regiment, Elias Dayton. As you know, he was to end his deployment in a few weeks, and to return to the States at that point. His remains will be shipped back to Massachusetts as soon as possible, at no expense to your family, along with his uniform, identification tags, and personal belongings. We assume you have a copy of his Last Will and Testament, but if that isn’t the case, we have it on record in his file, which will also be sent._

_Matthias loved the soldiers with whom he served, and they loved him in return. If there is anything I can do to ease the pain of your loss, I welcome the opportunity. He was a good soldier, and a better man._

_With deepest sympathies,_

_Gen. Nathanael Greene_

_-_

Aaron doesn’t register the words at first, reads the letter a second time.

He walks down the hallway, only quickening when he hears his name being called, and the tears start to fall before he’s even able to get into the bathroom. He goes inside and locks the door, sliding down the wall until he can hug his knees. He almost forgot, but now it’s all too clear in his mind.

He remembers staring defiantly at the grey house across from the park, from under the false eyelashes Rhoda had put on him earlier that evening, finger and thumb digging into his jaw. Prom night. _At least I got to choose the colors,_ he’d thought initially. The dress was pretty enough, blue and ruffled, he just didn’t know why he had to wear something he didn’t like for the purported most important night of his teenaged life.

“You look nice,” Matt shrugged. In reality, Aaron probably looked like a cat doused in water and caked-on makeup, hissing with squared shoulders, but he’d appreciated the sentiment anyhow. “Well, neither of them expect us home until tomorrow.”

Aaron looked him over in his peripheral vision. Matt was strong-jawed, obnoxiously European, tall and broad enough not to look awkward as his brothers did. Despite his flawless looks, It seemed that nothing could make him spit it out. They’d already gotten close to sleeping together twice, and yet he bumbled and staggered his speech like he couldn’t say it out loud. Aaron would have to help. “Isn’t it weird that they’re encouraging us to have sex when you’re technically my uncle?” He frowned, feeling a bruised area of his cheek move under the makeup.

“Don’t say it like that!” Matt gaped, horrified, but Aaron only examined his nails and shrugged. “We’re not blood relatives, and I’m like, two years older than you,” he said, then bit his lip. “And there’s something else. I turn eighteen this year.”

“So? No one’s gonna turn you in,” Aaron hated it when Matt worried about things like that, when he could just accept that Timothy and Rhoda wanted it to happen, so it would happen.

“That’s not it,” he sighed, slumping against the bench. “I’m joining the army next fall,” Matt seemed to wait for his reaction and grimaced as if he knew what was coming. Probably expecting Aaron to cry.

“You’re going to leave me here? With him?” he said, too infuriated to be mournful.

Matt looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t even want to explain himself, and it was obvious, making Aaron even angrier. Matt wasn’t responsible for him, of course, but at the same time, he was. He was the only thing that stopped Timothy from doing anything worse, and Aaron was able to be bolder with the protection. He knew what it would be like without Matt there. “I’ve been in JROTC for all of high school, what did you think I was going to do?”

Aaron hugged himself, scraping his arms a little with the long fake nails. “Wait until I could move out.”

Matt scratched the back of his neck guiltily. “Aaron, you know I tried to do that, I just-“

“Do I?” he snapped, shaking, the fear of living in the house without him coming up full force. He tried to swallow back everything he wanted to say, and instead looked away, to a tree in the corner of the greenbelt. “Where will you be going?”

He sighed, and sounding more frustrated with himself than anything, answered tersely. “I don’t know. Wherever they want me to go. I won’t be leaving until next October though, so we have a while,” Matt made another noise and opened his mouth several times before speaking. It was always hard for him to admit he might have done something wrong. “Aaron, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted to get somewhere, and I thought-“ He cut himself off with a groan, taking Aaron’s hands in his.

Aaron wanted to say _no, you could have picked me over it,_ or more likely, _what didn’t I do right,_ but he just shook his head and squeezed Matt’s hands. “It’s alright. I understand,” Even though he didn’t.

Matt didn’t say anything, standing up suddenly. “Well, Ezra’s having a party tonight, we could go there,” And Aaron nodded, not wanting to be argumentative with him, but he seemed to notice the passivity. His eyes got wide, like he was scared, and he grabbed Aaron’s shoulders. “I just want you to know that I… I love you, and nothing I do can change that. Alright?”

 _I’ll remember that when he’s beating me,_ Aaron wanted to tell him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that bitter when Matt looked so afraid for him. “Alright. I love you too,” It was true. He just didn’t enjoy loving someone who didn’t even think of him before signing up to go disappear with the chance of never coming back.

Matt trailed down to grab one of his hands and smiled as though it was difficult. “Let’s go then.”

When the time came for him to leave, they gave each other a warm goodbye, and Aaron didn’t think about it much when Timothy was on the porch right behind him.

Now, he’s sobbing, and the majority of the Bellamy household can probably hear him. He just faintly hears Jon telling them only to leave him alone, that he’ll come out when he wants to. _I didn’t even wait for him,_ Aaron thinks, and a wave of nausea joins the hollow feeling in his chest. He forgot about his best friend until a letter told him Matt was dead.

Jon calls for him, and he makes a whimpering noise. He wants to open the door, wants to be held, but he doesn’t deserve it. Aaron can’t make himself get up just yet. He clutches the letter to his chest and chokes back another sob. _He’s not coming back._

“Aaron?” Jon says again, and Aaron quiets, shoulders still shaking. He continues. “You don’t have to come out, but when you do, there’s a cup of tea on the dining table for you, if you want it. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me, okay?” And then Aaron unlocks the door from where he’s sitting by it, because he doesn’t want Jon to go back to the bedroom, and even if he doesn’t deserve to be held, Jon deserves not to worry about him. The doorknob turns, and the door opens just a crack. “Can I come in?” he asks, peeking in. Aaron nods, and he opens it enough to get through before closing it again. “Can I hold you?” Jon says quietly when he gets on his knees next to him. Aaron puts out his arms, still gripping the letter, and when he’s close enough, he presses his face into Jon’s shoulder and _wails._ Jon hushes him gently, pulls Aaron into his arms and rests a hand on the back of his neck to keep him close.

Jon murmurs reassurances to him even as his frame quakes with another sob, and then pulls away just slightly to look at him. “Can I see the letter?” he asks, and Aaron hands it to him. Jon continues holding him and keeps the letter behind his head to read it. He doesn’t change in demeanor, even after the point when Aaron knows he’s read the whole letter. Jon folds it back up and kisses his temple. “Okay,” he says, lets out a shaky breath against Aaron’s ear. “Okay. Let’s go to the bedroom. Do you want me to throw this away?”

Aaron thrashes in trying to get the letter from him, and Jon makes it easy, gives it over. “No, no, please,” he begs nonsensically, vision still blurry and breathing harsh.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Jon promises, and he stops struggling. He helps Aaron stand up and keeps him steady as they leave the bathroom, supporting him when his legs can’t. Leads the way to their bedroom. Aaron falls to his knees on the carpet as soon as they walk in.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking down even as Jon kneels beside him.

“It’s okay, this is perfect, you’re okay,” he whispers, like a chant, gently guiding Aaron by his wrists to the side of the bed and positioning himself in the same way. “Do you want to pray for him?”

Aaron sobs. “Yes,” Then he shakes his head. “But I- I can’t, can’t-“

“Yes you can,” Jon says, firm. He puts his hands together, and Aaron follows suit even as he thinks he’s going to be sick. “You don’t have to think. Just repeat what I say,” And he nods, so Jon continues, resting his forehead against the comforter. Aaron does the same thing, closes his eyes and swallows against the lump in his throat. “O God, creator and redeemer of Your faithful people, grant to the souls of our faithful departed, Your mercy, peace, and light.“

Aaron chokes out the same thing.

“Lord, we pray that those we love who have gone before us in faith, may know the blessings of everlasting life, in the company of saints in heaven. Amen.”

Aaron echoes him, then sniffs in the silence, his eyes still closed. “Can we say it again?”

“Of course,” Jon answers, and he doesn’t complain or stop or waver, even as they recite the prayer a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh- _twentieth_ time, even as it gets dark outside, even as Aaron unclasps his hands to clutch the letter instead.

At some point, the tears stop, and he’s suddenly aware of his surroundings. When Aaron lifts his head from the comforter, there’s no whiplash of light. They never switched the lights on, and it’s late in the evening. He can barely see Jon’s outline, but Aaron knows he’s there, can feel him. His head pounds, his knees ache, and his throat burns, but-

It’s not so loud anymore.

His mind isn’t screaming at him, asking why he didn’t wait, why he didn’t stay in love with Matt, why he’s still here and Matt isn’t. All he can hear is Jon’s breathing and the clock ticking. The letter isn’t so heavy in his hands. He feels at peace, in a hollow sense of the word. Mostly, he just feels tired.

Jon seems to understand this, lifts him onto the bed. He takes off Aaron’s shoes and pants. Jon does the same for himself and climbs into bed, cradling his head with both arms wrapped around him in the dark. “You’ll be okay,” Jon says to him, and Aaron drifts off, if only for his bone-deep exhaustion, without giving a response he doesn’t have.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr @ transaaronburr.tumblr.com
> 
> some extra notes  
> 1\. i barely know ANYTHING about the military  
> 2\. but i do know a lot about death + the law, and the negligent discharge thing is inaccurate. if it were negligent, the soldier WOULD be court-martialed, and probably discharged. the process described here, "cooking off," is still his fault for not changing the barrel, but it would not be considered negligent in a court of law. sorry i just felt the need to explain that.  
> 3\. deployments are usually never longer than 18 months, but matthias was deployed 2 times back-to-back, didn't come home after that (guilt? sense of duty?) and then was deployed again. this is pretty uncommon in actuality.  
> 4\. LOTS OF OTHER THINGS THAT YOU CAN ASK ME ON MY BLOG ABOUT IF YOU WANT
> 
> ok i swear im done. sorry for the angst y'all


End file.
